


Learning to Fly

by QueryingQuill



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Astrid and Toothless Bonding, Fluff, Slight Hiccstrid, bonding in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueryingQuill/pseuds/QueryingQuill
Summary: Hiccup crash-lands with Toothless, and he needs to teach someone to fly his rampant reptile, pronto. Good thing his girlfriend has a soft spot for him. Set during RTTE.





	Learning to Fly

As with all things Hiccup Horrendous Haddock did, tinkering involved a distinctly scrupulous process. Of all people to know that being precise could mean the difference between life and death, it was him. No longer could he remember how many times broken bones, fractured joints, singed hair, seared eyebrows, or any other obscure and frankly very painful injury had been the result of negligent fiddling. With barely eighteen years of experience under his belt, Hiccup almost had it down to a science.

Rough sketches came first; aimless doodling in his trusty weather-worn notebook that weeded out the ridiculous ideas from the ones that sparked a small flame of excitement within him. When he could not ignore the nagging fizzle of fervor, he’d then draw up a blueprint on a larger piece of parchment, paying extra attention to the minute calculations of the length and width of adjuncts. He’d hang the yellowed paper on the wooden wall decorated with all of his other lunatic inventions eagerly awaiting trial, sequestering old prints behind newer ones, and desperately trying to find just enough space to pin it while simultaneously struggling with not falling off Toothless’s head. Then came his favorite part: the actual building. So often while he locked himself in the forge did he discover small errors in his blueprint or new and better ways to make a part fit, that he’d have to mentally scold himself until he felt responsible enough to edit the print. It was this stipulation where he found things tended to go awry.

Almost anyone who has experienced intense bouts of inspiration is privy to the knowledge of just how hard it is to pry oneself away from the source and complete trivial tasks - like, oh, changing that four to a five because godsdamnit, if you don’t you’ll come back to make modifications and mold a piece to fit a four inch rod not a five inch rod and you’ll end up with no eyebrows again!

Again, Hiccup almost had it down to a science. No matter how many times he chased away his facial hair, no matter how many times he practically killed himself, he just couldn’t seem to remember to make those corrections.

And that’s how he ended up swinging lazily upside-down, suspended by the strings detached from his riding harness on the figurehead at the top of the dome.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Snotlout’s muffled cry came from underneath a rather large, rather scaly, dark blue lump. “Ger-off!”

Toothless, just as disgruntled as the Viking beneath him, slowly heaved himself to his feet with a dragon-sized grunt, staggering wildly as he attempted to regain his footing. His luminescent eyes rolled haphazardly in their sockets.

Snotlout moaned from his position supine on the ground. His helmet lay askew on his forehead, covering one eye and shoving his black hair into a porcupine style.

Ruff and Tuff came sprinting into the arena, presumably from the clubhouse having lunch, for the latter had a piece of bread and melted cheese in his hand. The twins took in the whirlwind state of the ring.

“Woah,” Ruff remarked in her usual discordant tone. “What happened here?”

Hiccup’s cousin roughly picked himself up from the dirt, brushing off his leggings. “What happened? What happened?” He ranted. “I’ll tell you what happened! I just got mowed over by a maniac and his five-ton salamander! And just after I’d gotten the arrow crates restacked!” He gestured angrily at the splintered pile of wood and fletching that littered the arena.

Toothless wandered curiously over to the heap, his ears perked, and sniffed it speculatively. His brows lifted in alarm and he snorted, a motion that shook its way down to the tip of his tail. He backed up quickly, nearly running over Snotlout again, and eyed the jumble.

Hiccup, who was still dangling from the ceiling, cleared his throat with some difficulty. “Um, guys…” He pointed to himself sloppily, feeling as if his head was about to explode.

“Oh, right,” Ruff snickered. “Barf, Belch! Get over here and help us cut the fishbone down!”

Hiccup was only able to ignore the comment due to his heaving stomach.

“You know,” Tuff pointed out, “We could just leave him there. I’ve never seen anyone’s face turn purple like that.”

It was too late, though, for Ruff to reconsider her options; Barf and Belch had already bit down on the string. Before Hiccup could comprehend what was happening, his face was planted firmly into the ground like it was attempting a head-first journey to the center of the earth.

“Owwww…” he whined pitifully as he clutched his nose.

“You know, that almost makes up for it,” Tuff conceded.

“Yeah, just look at the way his face is flashing colors! It’s like a Snoggletog lantern!”

Snotlout crowed loudly. “It’s karma Haddock.”

Hiccup shot his cousin his best withering glare, which only proved to exacerbate the gaudy boy’s laughing.

“Shu’ up ‘n’ ge’ me some ice.” Blood poured out of Hiccup’s nostrils, and from the numb throbbing issuing from the bridge of his nose, the male was able to surmise he had broken it. Again.

“Yes, your majesty,” Snotlout cackled. “Oh, and for the record, you’re cleaning this mess up.”

The three boisterous teens sauntered out of the arena, clutching their stomachs in mirth.

Hiccup sighed and removed his left hand from his face. Overlooking the still steady flow of sticky liquid, he held his hands out to the dragon. “Come ‘ere, Toothle’. I wanna che’ your shaddle.”

The entire reason Hiccup was in this predicament in first place drooped shamefully in shambles off of the reptile’s back.

“Shid,” he cursed under his breath. He held up a tough leather strap that, until recently, had been a holster for the stirrup. Not having the heart to stand up and assess the damage, Hiccup scooched along the ground on his butt until he reached the tail, only to be meet with a less than disappointing sight.

“Shid, shid, shid, shid.” No amount of curse words could reel in his slowly sinking hopes. The tailfin he had so fondly and artfully crafted for the amputated lizard sat in an even worse condition than the saddle. Limply held on by a fraying piece of wire, it was twisted and mangled beyond repair. “Frigga, I’m goingah ta have ta start ofer.”

He miserably wiped away a trail of blood that had snaked its way down to his chin. “Dis is not goot.”

Mentally, he ran through a list of what could have gone wrong. While they were still in the air, Hiccup had felt a wire snap out of place - slip, or possibly one of the pulleys broke. He remembered having an epiphany over dinner one night about the extension he’d added to the shift system. He’d - big surprise - forgotten to write it down, and when he fitted a slide shifter for his prosthetic over top of the train, he didn’t have the correct measurements. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“I’ll say.”

He whipped around at the voice. Astrid stood at the entrance to the dome with her arms crossed and her hip jutted out, staring determinedly at him.

Knowing he couldn’t escape reprimand, he offered her an awkward nervous smile. “Heh, yeah…”

Stormfly bounded out from behind her, wings spread and head bent, and lumbered over to sniff him concernedly.

She rolled her eyes at him. “When are you ever going to stop…this!?” She held her hands out, indicating both him and Toothless.

“Oh, oh, dank you,” he stammered sarcastically, “I really thoud we were ofer dat.”

“You’re going to kill yourself one day!”

Hiccup opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the re-entrance of the twins and Snotlout, followed closely by an anxious Fishlegs. Snotlout held out a cloth bag soaked with condensation and filled with ice.

“Here you go.”

Hiccup took it gratefully, placing it tenderly on his aching nose.

“If I could, I’d lock you up,” Astrid continued as if the others had not entered. “But I fear you’ll just find a way to set the pen on fire.”

“I’m nod dat prone.”

She stared at him disbelievingly.

“Fide.”

Fishlegs was still gazing around in wonderment, his mouth forming a comic ‘o’. “How -”

“Don’t ask,” Snotlout interjected. “Now come on, Fish-face. The sooner we get cleaning, the sooner we can not be here.”

In a rare display of kindness, Snotlout marched towards the wreckage and started hauling away the scraps.

Astrid, who had never let her gaze deviate from the bloody boy in front of her, dropped to one knee beside him. She gently slugged him in the shoulder - an action that communicated enough to Hiccup - before tentatively removing the ice bag from his hand. Hiccup snorted in protest, but she shushed him. Taking one damp corner, she softly rubbed clear the dried blood from his lips and chin. The russet-haired boy seized that moment to study her face. Her cheeks were slightly reddened from frustration, but still so radiant. She bit her lip slightly in concentration, just like she always did, a gesture Hiccup found absolutely adorable.

When she finished washing his face, she harshly shoved the bag back into his palm.

“Don’t think I’m not mad at you.”

Hiccup frantically shook his head.

“Good. Now get up. The first aid supplies are in the clubhouse and I’m not letting you walk around with a broken nose.”

She grabbed his wrist, hauling him to his foot. As he tried to take a step forward, his metal leg skidded out from under him and he pitched to the side, landing in Astrid’s shocked but ready arms.

He growled in annoyance: the flattened tip had bent downward during the crash. He kicked his foot against the ground a few times, as if that would soothe his anger.

Astrid smiled wanly, reaching for his arm and swinging it over her shoulder.

“Come on, Dragon-Boy. We need to get you fixed up.”  
***  
Several hours later found Hiccup hobbling around the forge on his crutches, desperately trying to locate some morsel of the metal he needed.

After knocking himself into one of the workbenches for the third time in as many minutes, he grumpily confessed that he was completely out, and there was no possible way he would be able to fashion another prosthetic until he ordered some from Trader Johann. What was more, he had idiotically decided that his two back-up legs needed upgrades, and had scrapped them both weeks ago. Hiccup amazed himself sometimes.

Toothless crooned sympathetically from his position at the entrance, leaning back on his hindquarters with his front feet resting on the rock partition. The Night Fury looked oddly naked devoid of his usual saddle and harness. Hiccup sniffed, his nose still a bit tender from his unceremonious landing that morning.

“How are we going to do this?” He asked his best friend rhetorically.

Toothless cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow as if to say you got us into this mess, you get us out.

Hiccup scoffed. “You’re so helpful.”

Toothless grinned sardonically.

Sticking his lip out and resting his chin on the padded end of the crutch, Hiccup studied his workshop.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about you not being able to fly; the first prototype of your saddle is in the stables. I can lengthen the pull-wire - since you’re longer - but I do have to teach someone how to fly with it, considering I have no leg…”

Toothless perked up at the mention of flying, but realizing Hiccup was only talking to himself, he disinterestedly turned and flopped himself into a ball, pulling his one tailfin up to cover his eyes.

“I’ll have to redraw that cheat-sheet (I should remember everything),” Hiccup continued, oblivious to the dragon’s lack of attention, “and maybe we could start at a place with less sea stacks,” he grinned at his own joke. “Now the real question is, who will fly? Fishlegs is too big for you in that harness. Tuff won’t listen to anything I have to say - he’ll be worse than dad - and neither will Ruff. Snot probably won’t give you back…”

A merry whistle caught his attention and for the second time that day, Hiccup marveled at the impeccable timing.

Astrid strode down the boardwalk leading to her hut, carrying a box full of balliste ammunition.

A slow smile danced on Hiccup’s lips, with an undertone that was decidedly devious.

“What’d ya say bud,” Hiccup directed at the slumbering dragon, “She looks about the right size.”  
***  
Astrid could not be described as distinctly intrepid. She liked things safe, and secure. Why else did she have the most fortified and armed house in the whole archipelago? Growing up in a world constantly ravaged by dangerous fire breathing beasts cultivated that mindset. Add on the pain of losing a loved one to the cause of not being well-prepared, Astrid’s biggest fear seemed to be that of unreadiness. It’s not to say that she wasn’t adventurous or brave - no, quite the contrary: she loved seeing new sights and meeting new people, and during a fight she was the last person you’d expect to find on the sidelines. She was loud and bold and proud and a teenager - it only fit. But that didn’t mean that she was reckless.

She did not pride herself on discerning the most dramatic and asinine way to get herself killed like some people.

She did not enjoy the hearty thrill of the chase and electrifying buzz of insurrection like someone she could mention.

And she most definitely did not savor the floundering feeling of not being in control six kilometers in the air like Hiccup.

“Please, Astrid!” His tone was getting higher and whinier, an indication that he was becoming frustrated.

“For the eighth time, NO.”

In the past two days since Hiccup and Toothless had crashed out of the sky, the population of the Edge had gotten used to the foreign sounds of Hiccup’s slightly nasally-er drawl that came from his now somewhat crooked nose and the hard clack, shuffle of his crutches and boot.

Astrid more than most.

Hiccup had apparently made it his mission to get her in the air on Toothless. He’d tried everything to make her say yes, from promising a favor in return to kidnapping her from her chores and sticking her in a tree (he’d probably asked for the new bruises that adorned his arms) to kissing her senseless in the alley between Fishlegs’ and the twin’s huts.

None of them had made her even think about budging - except maybe the kiss: she’d been so delirious that she’d had to stop herself in the middle of saying “yes.”

“Look at him!” He pointed at the dragon, who sat on the open wrap-around porch, his front paws drawn in close to his body and his glowing eyes wide and pitiful. “Someone needs to take him out for a romp before he explodes!”

Toothless looked down at the floor for a second before fixing her with his most pathetic expression.

“I will never understand how you two conspire so well together.” She picked up her plate from the table and dodged around him to walk over to the washing bin filled with the rest of the gang’s dishes. He didn’t miss a beat, spinning on his good foot and following her.

She picked up an awaiting bucket of water from the floor and heaved it over to Stormfly. The Nadder was curled up in the sun, her silvery-blue wings folded against her body, watching her human carefully. As soon as the bucket hit the planking, Stormfly let loose a stream of white-orange fire into the liquid, making it bubble and steam welcomely. Astrid hauled the bucket back to the washing bin and dumped its contents over the ceramics. Hiccup limped over and handed her the soap bar from the adjoining table. She took it without question, dipping it into the scalding water and trying to ignore the melting of her hands. Bubbles floated cheerfully to the top, creating a thin layer of foam over the surface.

He leaned against the wall as she started scrubbing the plates. “You’d make him so happy.”

“I’m not going to engage in some half-assed invention of yours that nearly failed the first time!” She dropped the dripping plate onto the counter harder than she meant to, but she went along with it since the noise made Hiccup flinch.

“It really didn’t,” he said, propping his crutches under one arm to keep him steady and gathering the drying towel and finished plate. “It worked fine until we got hit with a club for a tail.”

Astrid couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. The way he so casually talked about his near-death experiences either had her so annoyed she wanted to punch him, or so amused she wanted to cackle.

She probably wasn’t helping her cause too much.

“I don’t even know how to work the dumb thing.”

“Ah, see, that’s the beauty of teaching.”

“I’m not getting on him knowing that if we fall, it will be my fault.”

“Control freak.” He set another dish in the cabinet above their heads.

“I am not!”

“Are too! You won’t get on him because you don’t like feeling as if you can’t control him.”

“I can control him more than I can Stormfly.”

“Yes, but all you do on Stormfly is sit. On Toothless, you know you need to have some control, and not knowing how to have that control is disorienting to you.”

“Who’s side are you even on?”

He froze in the middle of stacking cups, contemplating the accusation. “You’re right. Anyway, it honestly won’t be that bad. I’ll be right there to walk you through it.”

“Do you even remember how to use the thing?”

“Yes, of course.”

“It was three years ago, Hiccup.”

“So?”

“How did it even survive your fall?”

“I made two, just in case.”

“That is about as much forethought that I think I’ve ever seen you have.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“So will you do it?” He looked at her so hopefully Astrid figured she might as well get sucked in a whirlpool with no chance of getting out.

She heaved an overdramatic sigh and finally relented, pretending not to find his wild fist pump and violent toppling cute.  
***  
The next day at dawn, Astrid met Hiccup on a bluff overlooking the Northern Ocean. The other riders had slowly trickled in to witness the “disastrous” flying attempt. Looking around, Astrid had a sudden flashback to Hiccup’s psychotic flight-suit test runs - multiple of which failed miserably and almost ended with Hiccup-juice splattered on the rocks. Astrid frowned deeply and mentally made a note to ground Hiccup from death-defying acts for the next…forever.

“Ok, ‘Strid.” The lanky teen pushed himself out from under Toothless’s belly, where he had been adjusting and attaching several important-looking gears. “We’re ready.” He sat up and grinned at her. Using Toothless as support, he stood, wobbling for a minute before steadying out.

“This,” he said, pulling a rumpled piece of parchment from a pouch on his right hip, “will be your most useful tool. Don’t lose it: you will crash.”

Astrid gulped. She recognized the tell-tale signs of second-thoughts and quickly steeled her nerves, looking defiantly at Toothless as if he were daring to question her resolve.

“Come here,” he gestured towards himself, and clipped the parchment onto the saddle head with a double-binder system. On the paper was a grid of six squares, each containing a cartoony sketch of a tail position and marked with a number.

“These are all the possible points the tail can be shifted to.” He held up a flattened hand. “Here’s the stirrup. Your foot will start like this,” he tilted his hand a bit forward. “That is position three. It is your takeoff and landing position.” With his free hand, he pointed at the fourth box in the grid and tilted his hand backwards. “This is position four.” He pointed at box five and tilted his hand back farther. “Position five…” he pointed at the next box and tilted his hand so that was vertical, “…and position six. Forget five and six, you won’t need those yet.”

“What do they do?” She inquired.

“Five basically lets him spin uncontrollably, and six is for steep dives, but we won’t be doing any of those today.” He moved his hand back to simulate position three. “This is your most useful position. For easy flights where he just wants to glide, three is basically all you need. However,” he shifted his hand forward. “Position two is also very important, and so is position one.” Position one looked just as uncomfortable as position six, lying completely vertical in the opposite direction, and Astrid learned to respect the flexibility of Hiccup’s ankles.

“Listen carefully, now, because this part makes all the difference.” Astrid fixed her eyes on his still- hovering hand. “Both takeoff and landing require some unique dexterity. You have to synchronously switch positions while changing your weight on his back, Toothless takes off a bit differently than Stormfly, of course, so instead a vertical climb straight from the ground, he does this sort of run/hop/skip thing and climbs at an angle. Your foot - like I said earlier - will begin in position three, and he’ll begin by running, but as soon as you feel him bunch himself in preparation to jump, you need to switch the position to two. There will be this little pause between him leaving the ground and him flapping his wings, and that’s where you switch it back to three. Once he flaps his wings, the stirrup immediately goes to position one. He’ll face himself at an angle to the ground and the second time he flaps his wings, boom, back to three. Did you get that?”

Astrid most certainly did not get that.

Hiccup chuckled - a deep sound that reverberated in his chest. “I’ll walk you through it again when we’re in the air. Next item!”

Astrid desperately wanted him to slow down. He was talking so fast, just like he did whenever he got passionate about a project, and it was hard for her to completely wrap her mind around everything.

“Toothless hates it when you sit on him like a rock, so you need to adjust your weight accordingly, especially during takeoff. It’s mostly a natural reaction, but whenever he wants to go forward, you have to lean forward, when he encounters turbulence, you need to sit him like a feather. Basic stuff.

“For landing - it’s basically the reverse of takeoff. He’ll come in at a reasonable angle, then, just before he touches down, he’ll hover over the ground momentarily. When he starts descending, you’ll switch the stirrup to three (but you’ll probably have it already on three because you’ll be gliding), when you feel the little hiccup before he starts hovering, switch it to two, then when he drops, switch it back to three.” He glanced warily at Astrid, trying to judge just how unhappy she was with this arrangement. “You’ll do fine,” he encouraged.

Astrid mumbled something about him being such an ass. Hiccup chose to conceal his smile with a cough.

“Well then, shall we?” He made a sweeping motion with his hand, gesturing for her to mount Toothless.

Astrid took a deep breath before grabbing the saddle-horn and hauling herself up. She wiggled a bit, getting familiar with the unfamiliar saddle.

“This isn’t so bad,” she said.

“You’ve just got to put your foot in the stirrup now.” With a little struggling, she was able to fit her boot within the straps. “Good. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Stormfly hummed from her seat next to Toothless on the edge of the cliff, sniffing her rider with interest. The Nadder squawked at the Night Fury, and he warbled back tiredly, as if promising for the umpteenth time that nothing was going to happen. Stormfly, however, didn’t seem too convinced. Still, she stepped back to give Toothless suitable space.

“Looks like your dragon has about as much faith in this working as the rest of us do,” called Snotlout from where he sat leaning against a rock.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “It’ll work, and she’ll be fine,” he proclaimed confidently.

“Sure.”

Hiccup reached across her lap to grip the saddle-horn and lift himself up behind her. His thighs mirrored her own, running parallel with the tops touching the backs of her legs. He hooked both his arms loosely around her waist, and suddenly she was aware of the fire that burned across her skin everywhere he made contact.

Great, all she needed was another damn distraction.

She focused on the small spiny bumps between Toothless’s ears, which were decidedly less attractive than the lean male she had her back pressed against. 

Focus.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mi’lady,” he chippered in her ear.

“Ok, Toothless. Let’s do this.”

The dragon flashed her a gummy smile before taking off towards the lip. Just before reaching the edge, Astrid felt the powerful muscles underneath her contract, tensing in a wired way.

“Position two,” Hiccup reminded her softly. The calm and confidence that emanated from him helped to clear her mind and let her focus. She pushed her foot forward slightly, hearing a small click that reverberated up her leg.

Toothless jumped, pushing all three of them in the air. They hung there for a couple seconds - seconds where time seemed to have no hold - before Hiccup reminded her again that she needed to switch the tail.

She counted one flap of the ginormous wings that propelled them forward jerkily. Toothless grunted as she almost missed the cue to switch to position one, but cooed encouragingly when she remembered the last shift.

And they were flying.

“Ha, ha!” Hiccup cheered. “You did it!”

Astrid, although she didn’t outwardly show it, was jumping hysterically for joy inside.

“Now all you have to do is land him!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Haddock.”

“I’ve said it enough already, but you’ll do fine.”

“In the meantime, though, I’ve hardly ever ridden a Night Fury, and never flown one, so let’s make this count.”  
***  
That afternoon, Astrid was beginning to regret her decision to help the chief’s son.

It definitely wasn’t worth it, she mused as she hung suspended from the figurehead at the top of the dome, to ride the fastest known dragon, but still end up hanging from the ceiling.


End file.
